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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23080219">both shelter and warning at once</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sublimity/pseuds/sublimity'>sublimity</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>a vortex of fate around all of us [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(and then he loses both because i end things on episode 6 oops), Canon Compliant, Character Study, F/M, Gen, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia-centric, Loneliness, M/M, Not A Fix-It, One-Sided Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Season/Series 01, Unrequited Love, alternatively titled: geralt the mighty witcher learns the power of friendship and love</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 10:48:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,464</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23080219</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sublimity/pseuds/sublimity</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>For a long time, it’s just him and Roach. The witcher and his horse. She listens to whatever he has to say and doesn’t require much attention, and that’s good enough for Geralt. After all, she’s all he has.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia &amp; Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>a vortex of fate around all of us [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1777411</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>86</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>both shelter and warning at once</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i started writing this in january, forgot about it altogether for two months, then found it in my drafts and happened to have had just enough inspiration to tie up all the loose ends, which brings us to the here and now. enjoy my many feelings about one geralt of rivia!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>A monster is not such a terrible thing to be. […] To be a monster is to be a hybrid signal, a lighthouse: both shelter and warning at once.</p>
  <p><strong>— Ocean Vuong</strong>, from “A Letter To My Mother That She Will Never Read”</p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>The thing about Geralt is — it’s not that he doesn’t care. The actual Geralt of Rivia is far from the savage killing machine people tend to paint him as these days (<em>courtesy of Stregobor,</em> he conveniently reminds himself), even though sometimes it’s easier to pretend that maybe they’re right, and maybe he’s crossed that line somewhere along the way. It’s easier, sometimes, to succumb to them and be the cold-blooded brute they all see him as. The Butcher of Blaviken, unhinged and lethal. A witcher gone rogue. Haven’t you heard? He used to hunt monsters — and then he turned into one of them himself.</p><p>The thing is — humans know fuck all.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Contrary to popular belief, witchers do have emotions, and attachment isn’t as foreign a concept to them as some may imagine. In his long life, Geralt’s had a few attachments — his mother, before she abandoned him at Vesemir’s doorstep, then his friends at Kaer Morhen, before two thirds of them died in training. He prefers not to dwell on any of that for too long.</p><p>It’s reasonable, Geralt supposes, to keep a safe distance when you lead the kind of life that puts everyone around you in immediate danger. He doesn’t want to be the reason for their deaths. He’s already lost enough people, anyway. He needn’t lose any more. (Geralt thinks of Renfri and his heart aches. He feels stupid for it.) Besides, his kind isn’t exactly welcomed with open arms in most places he travels across. He’s used to it now. As long as it gets him the coin.</p><p>So, for a long time, it’s just him and Roach. The witcher and his horse. She listens to whatever he has to say and doesn’t require much attention, and that’s good enough for Geralt. After all, she’s all he has.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>He meets a bard at a tavern in Posada who belts out shitty songs and comes up to Geralt attempting to make conversation, roundly ignoring his wish to be left alone. It’s annoying. Geralt leaves and heads for Dol Blathanna to find out who’s been stealing crops from the man that requested his services, when the bard — Jaskier, he says his name is — trails after him.</p><p>“I won’t be but silent back-up,” he assures. Something is telling Geralt that’s not quite true.</p><p>Jaskier, Geralt promptly realises, is the first person he’s met in a long time that doesn’t seem to be afraid of him, despite his not-exactly-flattering reputation. It’s a bit surprising, but mostly unfortunate, because Geralt would <em>really</em> like to be left alone.</p><p>He tries to scare Jaskier off, get him off his back. It doesn’t work. His attempts certainly don’t diminish the bard’s enthusiasm, either. Well, fuck.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>They walk out of Dol Blathanna unscathed, and Jaskier composes a ballad that is entirely inaccurate to the events that actually took place.</p><p>“Respect doesn’t make history,” he justifies it as. Geralt rolls his eyes.</p><p>Later, when they are parting ways, Jaskier seems confident that his music will change the way people see Geralt — <em>everyone will have heard the tales of the legendary White Wolf,</em> he guarantees. Geralt is more amused than anything to hear that.</p><p>He comes to find out, years down the line, that the bard was right.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“So that’s all life is to you?” Triss Merigold asks him, once, after tending to his wounds from fighting the cursed Temerian princess. “Monsters and money?”</p><p>Geralt’s side hurts as he tries to readjust his sitting position, and he winces before answering: “It’s all it needs to be.”</p><p>She gives him a look, then. He doesn’t expect her to understand.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Jaskier calls himself Geralt’s very best friend in the whole wide world, and Geralt nearly scoffs. As <em>if</em>. He doesn’t <em>need</em> friends — he’s learnt that well by now. And others hardly need <em>him</em> as one. He’s not breaking an established personal rule of not getting close to anyone for a bard that follows Geralt around and composes jolly tunes about their encounters just because he hasn’t got anything better to do.</p><p>Still, Jaskier insists that Geralt <em>must</em> want something from life, and frankly, it’s starting to get on his nerves. All he wants from life <em>right now</em> is some godsdamned peace and quiet. Witchers aren’t ones for leading simple lives with all of their earthly needs fulfilled, anyway. They have a purpose — to hunt down monsters — and that’s all there is to it. Fantasising about something you won’t ever have is such a human trait, Geralt thinks, and he finds it foolish. There was a time when he didn’t use to think that — but he hadn’t seen much of life, then. The way people look at witchers, what they see them as — abominations of nature. His reputation may have been improved to an extent, but in the eyes of most people, he’s still just a mutant for hire to do the dirty work for them, to get rid of the inhuman pest they can’t defeat on their own, and not much else. So why would he <em>need</em> anyone?</p><p>(<em>Not all of them think that,</em> his mind proposes. He looks at the bard standing by the wall. <em>Whatever.</em> <em>Even so, it doesn’t mean I’m obligated to be his friend.</em>)</p><p>Jaskier studies his nails for a while, hums — and then looks at Geralt, his expression changing from seriousness to feigned nonchalance.</p><p>“Well,” he says, dropping down in front of the bathtub and resting his arms on the edge of it, “who knows? Maybe someone out there will want you.”</p><p>The way his voice falters slightly mid-sentence is easy to miss, but it doesn’t escape Geralt’s ears. He clenches his jaw. Jaskier can’t be implying what Geralt thinks he’s implying. <em>Who</em> he’s implying, to be exact.</p><p>“I need no one,” he counters sharply. “And the last thing I want is someone needing me.” It comes out like a warning. <em>Consider your next words very carefully.</em></p><p>Their eyes meet, then, and Jaskier looks at him with such solemnity and determination that Geralt finds it difficult to look away. He holds his gaze.</p><p>“And yet,” Jaskier says, quiet but confident, “here we are.”</p><p>Geralt’s frown deepens. There’s no denying the fact that the two of them have got evidently closer than he has to anyone in a while, and Geralt couldn’t tell you exactly why he kept the bard around, if you asked him. He guesses he doesn’t quite <em>mind</em> his company. But it doesn’t make them friends. Much less anything beyond that.</p><p>“Hm,” is all he finds in himself to say, in the end. There is something akin to a triumphant glint in Jaskier’s eyes, and Geralt hates it. He quickly changes the topic.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>He’s forced to wear ridiculous human clothes and socialise with royals, which is infinitely far from being Geralt’s favorite pastime and not a forte of his, either. But tonight, he’s supposed to be protecting Jaskier from vengeful royal cuckolds at a Cintran banquet, and a promise is a promise.</p><p>Just to clear things up, Geralt only agreed to help out because he’s generous like that. Not out of friendship. If anything, it’s a matter of simple camaraderie at <em>most</em>.</p><p>He can’t help being somewhat fond of the idiot, though. Just a little. Only because his stupidity is almost as endearing as it is a pain in Geralt’s arse.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The banquet quickly goes up in flames, all but literally, and Geralt leaves Cintra with a mark on his neck. He has no intention of coming back to claim his Child Surprise, and Queen Calanthe will certainly not allow it unless it is over her dead body, either. But he can feel something looming overhead, trailing behind like a shadow, whispering to him that trying to outsmart destiny, even if you’re the mighty Witcher, is a fool’s errand. Geralt inhales sharply through his nose and covers his ears in hopes of tuning out the voice.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>For whatever reason, Jaskier is <em>dying</em>, and this is precisely why Geralt has a habit of staying away from people.</p><p>They ride to the nearest town, which ends up being Rinde, Jaskier clinging to Geralt for dear life, like he’s scared Geralt will abandon him, or maybe to comfort himself, Geralt isn’t sure. He almost hopes it’s the latter, because Jaskier should know Geralt wouldn’t leave him alone in this, not now, not until they’ve figured out what caused the bleeding and ensured Jaskier’s safety. Then again, it’s not like Geralt has ever given him any real reason not to doubt that. He grimaces.</p><p>It’s moments like this that really put things into perspective. And Geralt knows, right here and now, that he cannot lose Jaskier. He could’ve told him to fuck off years ago — it’s not like Jaskier wouldn’t have got a hint if that had been what Geralt truly wanted. He could deny it all he liked, but every time, he was the one that let Jaskier stay. And Geralt doesn’t get attached, stubbornly refuses to — but somehow a clingy over-talkative bard has managed to break through his shell. And Geralt can’t let him die now. He won’t.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The mage of Rinde is a sorceress, a stunning figure in a black dress, her dark hair carefully tucked behind and up in an intricate hairstyle, her violet eyes striking against the lace black mask when she looks at him, and lips painted a bright, dangerous red. Geralt holds his breath, and he is almost entranced, except—</p><p>Jaskier is lying down on the floor coughing up blood, and they are in a hurry. They need her help, and they need it <em>now</em>.</p><p>“Just a friend, I hope?” the sorceress — Yennefer of Vengerberg — asks in a way that makes Geralt uncomfortable. It’s a throwaway remark, yet he can’t help but think of the way Jaskier was looking at him before the banquet in Cintra all those years ago, going on about the wants and needs. How falling in love is easy and quick and fleeting for him; how he courts all those women, gets bored, and leaves to find Geralt every single time.</p><p>
  <em>Maybe someone out there will want you.</em>
</p><p>Geralt makes a face. Now is definitely not the time to read into any of that. Yennefer is looking at him expectantly, and he awkwardly hands her the apple juice.</p><p>For some reason, the guilt in his stomach swells.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Geralt stands in front of the bed where Jaskier is lying, unconscious, breathing quietly. It draws a sharp breath from Geralt’s own lungs. <em>This can’t be the end for him,</em> he thinks, <em>there is supposed to be so much more to life for him than this.</em></p><p>(Jaskier can’t be another person Geralt loses. Not another person that dies because of him.)</p><p>And the bard isn’t quite the frivolous young man he was when Geralt first met him, anymore — surely there must be something he dreams about, something he wants to do that isn’t travelling with Geralt forever. Geralt doesn’t know if Jaskier has any plans to settle down with any of the women he’s been with, doubts if his intentions with any of them have ever been serious enough for that. But isn’t that what all the humans want? A steady, happy life with someone they love? Because Geralt isn’t that for Jaskier, never has been, and he’s sure Jaskier would know better than to look for his perfect fairy tale romance in him. Witchers and humans don’t go well together.</p><p>Still, Jaskier’s life matters to him — not the way it did in Dol Blathanna during their encounter with elves, when he was just some bard Geralt stumbled upon that day that needed getting out safe because he was innocent and happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Jaskier’s life matters to Geralt now because he’s a <em>friend</em>, the only real friend Geralt’s had in a long, long time aside from Roach, as well as the only other consistent thing in his life in the past two decades. And, to be fair, all Jaskier is a lot of the times is just annoying background noise, but that noise is what oftentimes keeps Geralt sane. He hates being alone with his thoughts, has hated it every day since Cintra — feels like they may well eat him alive every time they get the chance.</p><p>And Jaskier has been a good friend to Geralt, continuously and unconditionally so, even when Geralt has given him every reason not to be. He has to survive now, so that Geralt can make sure Jaskier knows it means more than any words can ever say.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Things go south rather fast. Geralt finds himself locked up in a cell with a faint memory of something about the djinn and the intoxicating sensation of Yennefer’s lips on his. He is, apparently, to be executed for the mayhem he can’t remember committing. Fucking hell.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Like magic — literally — Geralt escapes, and Jaskier lives. Geralt doesn’t hide the relief washing over him.</p><p>Jaskier is fine. Yennefer, however, is not. The Yennefer that fooled Geralt and nearly got him killed — and he still knows he has to save her life. So he walks right into the eye of the storm, paying no attention to Jaskier’s desperate attempts at stopping him.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“You seem to want to meet your end,” Yennefer says when he enters the room, grinning at him like she <em>knows</em>, like she sees right through him. A man without any direction in his life that everyone treats like he’s either one of the monsters he hunts for a living that they’d gladly spit in the face of or some kind of savior with solutions to all of their problems. Geralt thinks Jaskier may very well be the only person that’s ever seen the real him. Or, he’s starting to think — maybe Jaskier isn’t the <em>only</em> one.</p><p>“As do you,” he says back, taking in the hurricane raging around them and Yennefer laid out on the floor like a target.</p><p>The wind grows stronger, Geralt can feel the pull on his face, but she doesn’t listen when he tries to stop her. He’s <em>scared</em>, properly so and at a loss of what to do, and he knows that if he doesn’t do <em>something</em>, they’ll both be dead within five minutes. The djinn takes full control of Yennefer’s body, her eyes turning blood red, voice hellish when it speaks through her mouth. She’s going to die, and Geralt can’t let her.</p><p>So, he makes a wish. Their fates are now inextricably intertwined.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Some time passes, and there’s no denying it anymore: Jaskier is in love with him, anyone with a pair of functional eyes can see, and Geralt isn’t blind. It’s also blatantly clear that he’s looking for reciprocation, which isn’t something Geralt can give him. It’s not that he’s never been with men; but he thinks of Yennefer’s raven curls, her soft lips, the violet of her eyes, the way she makes him dizzy — and Jaskier is a friend, and Geralt cares for him, of course, but he does not compare. So Geralt pointedly ignores the tension, lets it hang in the air between them. If Jaskier is smart, he’ll move on soon enough.</p><p>They don’t talk about it.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>They’re offered a spot in one of the teams for a dragon hunt in King Niedamir’s mountains, and none other than Yennefer of Vengerberg is one of the contestants opposite them. Geralt says yes without a second thought.</p><p>He discovers, later, that she is to be mage of Denesle and is clearly involved with the thickheaded <em>sir Eyck </em>— for what purposes exactly, Geralt has no idea. Still, it makes his blood boil.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Sir Eyck doesn’t make it. It’s a rather disgraceful death. Geralt doesn’t think much of it, though.</p><p>Yennefer does, or so she pretends. They get into an argument — because that seems to be inescapable in this dynamic the two of them have — that ends with Geralt convincing her to join their team, to use another route to the dragon’s lair suggested by the dwarves. He wants her to come with, for her to be close to him at all times, and he can see it in the swirling violet irises of her eyes that she feels the same way.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Things don’t go as planned, and Téa, Véa, and Borch are lost to the abyss. Jaskier attempts to comfort Geralt, and Geralt appreciates it, but he’s not sure words could be any of consolation to him right now. He let innocent people die. There <em>is</em> something he could have done — they shouldn’t have used the shortcut.</p><p>Jaskier continues, and Geralt is lost in thought, trailing his gaze along the line of the horizon, the bard’s voice seemingly faint and distant, when he notices the change of subject. Jaskier is suggesting they leave, the two of them. Get away for a while. <em>Do what pleases you, while you can.</em> The tone of his voice is a little hesitant and a lot hopeful. Geralt can hear his accelerated heartbeat and a thought crosses his mind: this sounds an awful lot like a love confession. He tenses.</p><p>“Composing your next song?” he tries in an attempt at changing the topic to something more light-hearted. They’re not having <em>that</em> conversation. Geralt wouldn’t know how to handle it gracefully.</p><p>“No, I’m just, uh… Just trying to work out what pleases me,” Jaskier says, soft and quiet, only for Geralt and himself to hear. He seems to really want to have that conversation. Geralt pretends he doesn’t notice Jaskier casting a subtle glance in his direction at the words before licking his lips and looking away into the distance. They sit like this in silence for a while, and then Geralt pretends, once again, that he’s oblivious to the hurt settling in Jaskier’s features when he gets up and heads for Yennefer’s tent. After all — what else is he supposed to do? He’s being as merciful as he possibly can, saving the both of them the awkward tension that would have inevitably followed. What other options are there? Love out of pity would be unfair to Jaskier, and a pitiful one-off thing would ruin him, Geralt fears. He doesn’t want to ruin the best friend he has.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Yennefer is — different, not like anyone Geralt has ever met. They’re equals, and he thinks she could understand him, <em>really</em> understand him. Neither of them had a choice in becoming who they are, and they’ve both led lives long enough to grow weary and get well acquainted with loneliness and loss. Borch was right — there is a chasm inside of him, scooped out and hollow, where something like a sense of purpose should be. Geralt thinks he’s lost his a long time ago. He thinks maybe they’ve extracted it out of him at Kaer Morhen, amongst other things that used to make him human. He hunts down monsters for coin — and that was purpose enough for many decades. Being with Yennefer now makes him wonder if — just maybe — there could be more to life for him than that.</p><p>“You’re important to me,” Geralt says to her. <em>I could love you, Yennefer of Vengerberg,</em> he thinks, and it scares him. How dangerously close he is to loving her. He falls asleep, and she is lying by his side, running her hand along the side of his face, and Geralt hasn’t felt this peaceful in a long, long time.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Predictably enough, momentary happiness slips through his fingers and he loses Yennefer, and Jaskier can’t get a <em>fucking</em> hint that Geralt is having a bad day, so Geralt lashes out like a porcupine shooting its quills.</p><p>It’s a mess, and Jaskier looks like something inside him died. Guilt swirls in Geralt’s stomach at the sight. He might’ve said too much without thinking. What’s done is done, though. He can’t take it back.</p><p>Jaskier mumbles something about finishing the song; tells Geralt he’ll see him around. This isn’t the first time Geralt has treated him as less than what he is, his true and only friend, but this time he’s pretty sure he’s actually managed to break Jaskier’s heart. Just like this, Geralt loses the two people most important to him.</p><p>Maybe it’s better this way. No one to pull apart his every decision or drag him into another mess he then cannot entangle himself from. It’s not like Geralt <em>needs</em> anyone, anyway. He used to do just fine on his own. He’ll be fine.</p><p>The cold mountain air around him is rough against his skin. Geralt closes his eyes. He stands alone.</p>
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